Confessions of an insomniac

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Exiting from that room with purpled floor and dyed curtains, I began picturing that spotless white marble floor and those angelic silks that draped from the windows when I first entered it. Her enigmatic beauty seemed to radiate from every corner of the room. Every painting on the wall was priceless. None painted by some famous artist but nonetheless had their significance in that house. Paintings someone would die for to adorn their houses with. Paintings which now reeked of horror and violence they had witnessed recently.

I had entered such rooms before and never ever paid any attention to such paintings, flooring and beautiful decorations. Perhaps, I never knew what this experience was until then. And I definitely never felt the way I do now. Living in the awe of this beauty for so long had made me feel possessive about it. I believed that I own it, deserve it in every respect. I had forgotten all my past sins. The sins that forbade me from even being close to such a place. The sins which sublimed in the pure presence of this energy. Well....atleast I thought that they had....

The demons had never left. Nine times they tried and each time I escaped like a cat. They knew I had no more lives left and came for a final blow. Plotting in ways known only to the most devious of species. They led me to my own piece of personal hell. Awed by the beauty I had only felt in dreams. Simplicity, only limited by my imagination. And purity and love radiating and ripping through my body and soul. I walked into my own torture chamber at free will.

She danced around like a ruthless assassin. Stabbing at all the right places, piercing the statue that lay at her mercy. I relished every blow in a masochistic desire for pleasure. Every sin had come to witness this murder. Every sleepless night that had gone by, came to haunt me. Self respect was hacked like limbs from my body. Strength was caving in. The blood-shed I witnessed had left me begging for peace. The violence of every blow, blood oozing from every gaping wound, skin ripped off like clothes from my body. Mercy was a privilege I didn’t deserve coz I never had it for anyone else. I had become accustomed to such blood stained floors from the time when I used to dance like her. Every wailing cry I never heard, now rang in my ears all night. Every pain I ever caused was being returned to me. I begged for the eternal sleep but even that was denied.

Many a times like today, I had decided to exit this tomb. My body is free to move, the doors offering me the escape with arms wide open. Many a times like today, I dragged my incapacitated self across the stained hall and to the door. Many a times like today, I had tried to escape. And every time like today, I had realised that this is where I belong because she is the one who still loves me and would always want to be with me inspite of all my incapacities. She is my care-taker and my under-taker who would finally offer me my sleep...
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